


Through Trial and Error

by superpotterdiaries27



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-11-04 14:12:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10992567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superpotterdiaries27/pseuds/superpotterdiaries27
Summary: Derek thinks that leaving Beacon Hills was the best decision he made. Of course, he never considered the effect his absence could have on Stiles.OrThe one where Derek leaves but then comes back and Stiles and Derek work on their relationship through trial and error.





	1. Chapter 1

Stiles is walking down the hallway, a blade in his hands. Blood is dripping from the blade onto the hard wood floors, leaving marks behind as he walks forward down the hallway. He can hear them screaming, awaiting their impending death. He can hear the ones who are already gone too, the ones who had begged and begged but really had no chance of surviving. He still feels all their anguish and sadness. Oh and that pain he feels coming from them. It is quite _delicious_.

Stiles’s blade is about to face its next victim. But then something happens. As he turns toward a broken mirror, he sees piece after piece of skin fall off of his face. He tries to scream but to no avail. No sound comes from his mouth. He tries to turn away from the mirror but finds that it keeps following him in every direction. It’s then that he notices that his whole face has been shredded.

 _What has he become?_ He thinks to himself right before he up wakes up, yelling in terror.

* * *

Derek is in his loft. He is pacing back and forth across the room, his arms crossed, a scowl on his face. He does not want to sit down because he knows that if he sits down he will never get up. And that can’t happen because he promised Cora. He promised her that he would protect her and he failed, he failed yet again. And it shouldn’t come as surprise because he’s failed so many times before but it does and the more he thinks about it, the more it hurts.

He runs a hand over his face, wiping at the tears that have leaked from his eyes. He knows that he has no time to sit around and cry. He has things to do. Cora’s funeral is in a few hours and he needs to prepare himself for a dozen or so people telling him how sorry they are and if they could do anything for him, they would. Seriously, what could they possibly do? They couldn’t bring Cora back and that’s the only thing he would want from them.

He manages to stop the tears right before he leaves his house to attend the funeral of his last remaining relative.

* * *

Stiles and his father, John are in their kitchen. Stiles is sitting at the table, mindlessly scrolling through his phone while his father is making scrambled eggs for both of them.

“Anything interesting on that phone of yours?” The sheriff asks Stiles as he places two plates of scrambled eggs on the table.

“Not much,” Stiles says as he digs into his food and avoids eye contact with his dad. 

“Stiles, do you want to talk about last night?” John asks slowly, keeping his eyes on his son.

Stiles shakes his head, “No” and still does not glance up from his breakfast.

“ _Stiles,_ ” The sheriff says gently.

Stiles grits his teeth and says,  “ _What, dad_?”

"It’s the nightmares, they’re happening again, aren’t they?”

“Yes,” Stiles says calmly now. “How did you know?”

John gives him a small smile, “I’m your father, Stiles. I know these things.”

Stiles rolls his eyes at that. Then, he stabs the eggs with his fork and brings a mouthful to his mouth. When he swallows and wipes his mouth, he grumbles, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

John nods. He knew that he wasn’t going to get anywhere with his son today. Some days are bad and some are good but today is especially bad, considering the upcoming events. Can’t blame him for trying to reach out and talk to his son though.

Realizing that that conversation is over John switches the subject. “Are you ready for Cora’s funeral?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Stiles says, frowning down at his food.

“Right, - ” John takes a sip of his coffee, “If you feel that it’s too much, promise me, you’ll leave.”

“Dad..” Stiles starts but doesn’t get to finish because his father interrupts him saying, “Stiles, _please_.”

Upon the desperate look his father is giving him, Stiles says, “Okay, I promise.”

* * *

Derek manages to get through the funeral. He makes it through the eulogy. He makes it through everyone coming up and telling him how sorry they are. And after, he thinks he’s fine and that the worst is over. That is until he sees _him_ of course.

Stiles is standing next to his father as he whispers something to the sheriff and the sheriff nods his head along. Then Stiles turns his head and makes eye contact with Derek. And suddenly Derek can’t breathe. He needs to get out of there. _Now._

Before Stiles or anyone else can catch up to him, Derek runs out of the cemetery, gets into his car and drives away with a speed that is definitely way beyond the speed limit. 

* * *

Derek is walking around his bedroom, gathering his things and packing it into a duffle bag when Stiles gets there. For a few minutes, Stiles just stands there, observing him, not wanting to make his presence known. But who is he kidding, Derek is a werewolf, he can hear everything.

“Do you need any help?” Stiles says, trying to keep his tone neutral. He doesn’t want this to evolve into a huge argument.

Upon Derek’s confused stare, Stiles says, “I mean, you’re _obviously_ going somewhere.”

“ _Stiles_.”

So much for this not being a fight. _Fuck_.

Stiles ignores Derek’s warning tone. Instead he continues talking. “I’m sorry about what happened. You have to know I would have done anything to get there in time to save her.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Derek shoved some jeans into his bag, not even glancing up once.

Stiles comes closer to Derek. Derek turns to look at him for a few seconds but then turns away immediately, now shoving his toiletries into his bag. Really, how was he going to shove all of his crap into this bag? Stiles shakes the thought away.   

“So, will you stay?” He asks instead.

Derek turns away from him. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I -” Derek swallowed a lump in his throat as he folded his sweaters- “I just can’t stay here, Stiles. I have to get out of here.”

“Derek, please,” Stiles says, with pleading eyes. “I’m still here.”

This time Derek does look up. “ _What_?”

“Cora’s not here anymore and I know it hurts, okay, I get that-” Stiles took Derek’s hand into his, gently stroking Derek’s thumb “- But I’m still here, Derek. You don’t have to go. We can deal with it together.”

Derek tore his hand out of Stile’s grip. “I’m not staying, Stiles. Just let me go, okay?”

Stiles decided to try a different tactic. He glared at Derek. “You don’t have to, you want to. You want to leave me and the pack and everyone behind to go on your stupid fucking road trip just because you don’t want to deal with all the crappy stuff here.”

“ _Stupid_?” Derek asks, his eyes flashing with anger. “You don’t know how it feels to lose a sibling.”

And okay, that really stung. Because even if Stiles doesn’t know how it feels to lose a sibling, he does know a lot about dealing with losing someone close. But Stiles lets it go because he knows that Derek is hurting right now.

“You’re right I don’t,” He says and places an arm on Derek’s shoulder. “But I can try to help you.”

Derek pries Stiles’s hand off his shoulder, shaking his head. “No, _you_ can’t.”

Stile’s face falls at that. And when Derek sees that, he ignores every impulse he has to drop his bag, pull Stiles close and kiss his pout away.

Instead Derek slings his bag over his shoulder, walks to the entrance door and leaves the loft, leaving Stiles behind.

* * *

In a few minutes, Derek is in his car. He starts up his car, puts his seatbelt on and reaches to the radio knob to turn it on. That’s when he notices it. The dreamcatcher keychain hangs from the rear-view mirror. This strikes him with a memory. 

* * *

_Christmas_

They were in the loft, sitting on the couch in their pajamas, wrapping paper all around them and Derek had just opened his gift. He looked at it with a confused glance. “What is this?”

Stiles laughed and his eyes crinkled. “It’s a present for you, dummy.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “I know it’s for me but what is it?”

Stiles laughed again and Derek glared at him. But Stiles knew Derek didn't mean anything by it. “You seriously don’t know what it is? It’s a dreamcatcher keychain for your car. It’s believed to bring good luck. I mean, who knows if it does actually work but it was cute and I know you believe in all of that stuff so I figured what the-”

Stiles stopped rambling as Derek pulled him in and gave him a giant sloppy kiss. “I’ll put it in my car later. Thanks, baby.”

Stiles smiled at Derek and pulled him in for another kiss.

* * *

Derek shakes his head at the memory. He slams the steering wheel. Derek will not cry over this. He pulls the keychain gently from the mirror. For a few seconds, he contemplates throwing it out the window. He changes his mind and instead puts it in the glove compartment. Then he drives away, not looking back.

* * *

Back in the loft, Stiles hasn’t moved since Derek left. He’s not sure he even wants to. He’s standing in the living room when he notices a piece of paper folded neatly on the dining table. Next to it, is a small envelope.

He walks up to the table and unfolds the paper. It says, _the keys to the loft are in the envelope. I’m sorry I left but I had to go. Please understand, I had to go._

Stiles snorts. Because snorting is better than crying. And Stiles will not give Derek the satisfaction of crying over him. As he runs his finger across the dining table, he remembers what had happened the last time he was at this table.

* * *

_Three days ago:_

They were standing over the dining table, a map of the school spread out. Derek was at the head of the table, Lydia and Stiles were on both sides of him, and Scott and Allison were in front of him.

As they looked over the map and try to figure out a way to get there without the Nogitsune getting them first, all Stiles could think was why was this their life? First Scott being a werewolf, then Jackson being the Kanima, and now this.

Suddenly, he heard whispers. He knew what it meant. Ever since he had discovered that he was a banshee, he and Lydia had been practicing their powers and how to control them.

But at that moment, he could do nothing but grab at his head. There were _too_ many voices in his head.

“What is it Stiles?” Derek asked him gently. “What’s wrong?” 

It took all of his energy to answer. “All the voices in my head. I can hear them all at once.”

“What are they saying, Stiles?”

“I don’t- I don’t know.”

“Try to concentrate.”

“I can’t,” Stiles grit his teeth. He can't handle all the whispers in his head and the conversation with Derek. It feels like his head is going to explode at any second. _Fuck, How has Lydia been able to control this?_

Lydia pried his hands away from where he had placed them on his head. She turned him around so that he was facing her. She lifted his chin up, and said calmly, “Listen, to me, Stiles. He cut off my connection to him because he knows about me. He knows I’m a banshee. But he doesn’t know about you. He doesn’t have a clue. So please concentrate and try to find them, like I taught you.”

It was hard and his head felt like it was going to explode. But Stiles ignored the pain and managed to see into the Nogitsune’s head. “He’s planning on –” Stiles’s voice faltered.

“On what?”

“Killing Cora,” Stiles said and then he screamed and screamed and screamed.

Eventually they got to the school. But it had been too late. The Nogitsune had a blade in his hand and was smirking as he stood over Cora, who was on the ground whimpering and gasping for air. Derek immediately ran to her side and Stiles wanted to run to him, to help him in any way he could.

But all he could concentrate on was the Nogitsune’s face, which was his face. And all he could think was _Oh god, I killed Cora._ That’s when he turned to the side, vomited and fainted.

When he came to, he heard beeping machines and his father talking in a quiet voice to someone else and he knew he was at the hospital.

He didn’t want to deal with anything so he went back to sleep. Later, he woke up to his father reading the newspaper on the chair across from him.

His father told him that the Nogitsune and the Oni were now dead but that Lydia had been hurt in the fight. It was nothing major but she was still brought to the hospital and was recovering in another room. The sheriff said that everyone else was okay. And Stiles almost scoffed at that. Right, of course, everyone else was okay, except for oh right, Cora. But he didn’t scoff because he was still too tired to do anything.

He then asked about Derek and how he was doing but his father just told him to rest and that he needed to go back to work but would be back soon. Soon after, they said their goodbyes and the sheriff went back to the station.

For a few minutes, Stiles just laid there in the hospital bed. But then he decided that he would try to find Lydia’s room. He got up from the hospital bed and winced as he stepped onto the tiled floor. Apparently, he had sprained his ankle when he fainted. That was just his luck, of course.

He found Lydia’s room easily. It was on the same floor as his and a few doors down. The door was open and he could hear the television playing. When he stepped inside, he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind: “Cora didn’t make it.”

Lydia muted the T.V. and turned towards Stiles. “I know.”

“I’m so sorry,” He didn’t know what else to say.

Lydia twiddled with the remote. “You shouldn’t be.”

Stiles shook his head. “No, but I should be. If I had just had extra time and had realized what he was planning to do earlier, she wouldn’t have-"

She dropped the remote onto the side of the bed. “It wasn’t your fault, Stiles.”

“But it was. If I had practiced more like you taught me, maybe I could have realized what he was doing, maybe I-”

Lydia sighed. “You will never know what could have happened. Maybe we would have had the same outcome as we do now. You shouldn’t concentrate on what-ifs, Stiles. You should live in the present.” She played with her hair, twirling a curl around her index finger. “What happened to Cora was awful but we cannot go back in time to change it.’

Stiles was about to respond to that but then Jackson entered the room. He had a few balloons in one hand and a bag of food from the cafeteria in another.

He put the balloons in the corner and then gave Lydia the bag.

“Hey, I brought you some of your favorite junk food,” Jackson said. Then he turned and nodded to Stiles, “Hey, man.”

“Thank you,” Lydia smiled at Jackson but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. Stiles knew it was time for him to leave.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” He said and walked out of the room.

* * *

Back in the loft, Stiles looks over the apartment, making sure he didn’t forget anything. When he’s done checking, he closes the door to the loft and locks it. One  _last time_.

* * *

After walking out of the loft, Stiles gets into his jeep. He puts his seatbelt on. He checks his reflection in the rearview mirror and then he bangs his fists on the steering wheel. He feels like screaming. But he doesn’t. Instead, he bangs his fists on the steering wheel for a few more minutes until the anger seeps out of him.

For a while, he just sits there, breathing heavily. Eventually, he drives out onto the street, back to his home.

* * *

Dinner is a quiet affair. His dad doesn’t ask him any questions, just sits there across the table, eating his food and glancing over paperwork from the station. His father doesn’t even have to ask him what’s happened, everything he hasn’t said is written all over Stiles’s face.

After he finishes his dinner, he clears his plate and puts into the sink. That’s when he hears his father cough, an ‘ahem’ sort of sound coming from him.

Stiles turns away from the sink and glances at his dad questioningly.

His dad takes his reading glasses off and rubs a hand over his face. With the sheriff’s eyes closed, Stiles observes his father and notices how many wrinkles his dad has. Suddenly Stiles is hit with a realization of how much stress his dad must have gone through with all that life has thrown at him. He swallows past the lump in his throat.

When his dad opens his eyes, he says, “Stiles, you know, I’m always here for you, kiddo. If you want to talk, that is.”

Stiles smiles weakly at his dad. “I know, dad.” He hopes his dad would leave it at that but of course his wishes never come true.

“So if anything’s bothering you and you want to talk…” His dad leaves off, waiting for Stiles to get the hint.

“Thanks, dad. But I’m fine,” At his dad’s doubtful look, Stiles adds, “ _Really_ , I am.”

Then he tells his dad that he’s going to turn in early and goes upstairs to his bedroom.

* * *

That night proves to Stiles and to his dad just how much Stiles is not fine when he wakes up covered in sweat and yelling as loudly as he can.

His dad is there immediately, clutching Stiles to his chest to calm him down. Stiles bursts into tears right there and then. And he thinks maybe, he should be embarrassed about being eighteen and crying in front of his dad. But he doesn’t really give a shit at that moment so he clings to his dad and sobs.

* * *

Later, when Stiles has calmed down and drunken some water, he wipes at his eyes and mutters, “Why did he have to leave?”

His dad doesn’t ask who ‘he’ is and for that Stiles is thankful.

“Kiddo, I don’t know,” The sheriff scratched at the back of his neck. “People do things for different reasons. Just remember, don’t hate him, he’s gone through a lot, what with the fire and now Cora.”   

“I don’t hate him,” Stiles hugged his arms around his knees. “That’s the problem.”

The sheriff said nothing in response and so they sat in complete silence for a few minutes. Then Stiles snorted.

His dad looked alarm. Stiles could understand why that was. First, his son was balling his eyes out and then he was suddenly laughing. “What is it, Stiles?”

Stiles shook his head. “Nothing, it’s just remember what I said to you before you met Derek?”

When the sheriff realized what his son was referring to, he laughed.

_A year ago_

Derek was supposed to come and meet his dad today. Of course, his dad knew about the Hales, what with their history but he had never actually met Derek face to face before today. And Stiles was quite worried. He didn’t know if this would end well or if it would end in tears. He really hoped it wouldn’t be the latter. But who knew.

He paced back and forth while his dad sat at the kitchen table reading the newspaper. His dad smirked at his fidgeting. “Stiles, calm down.”

Stiles bit his fingernails. “I can’t."

His dad laughed. “I can see that.” Just whatever you do, please don’t hate him, dad. He’s gone through a lot.”

The sheriff sighed.  “He’s a werewolf, Stiles. And even if there are umm... special-”

“-Circumstances?” Stiles offered. The circumstances being that Stiles was now a banshee and all of his friends were some sort of supernatural beings.

“Yes, circumstances-" His dad crossed his arms. "- But we are still a hunter family and we live by a code, don’t ever forget it.” His dad gave him a stern look. 

“I won’t but Derek’s done nothing wrong. If you’ll remember correctly, the Argents have actually done more wrong than him.”

A grimace flashed across his father’s face. Mention of the Argents was not well received.

Stiles discovering he was a banshee had been quite a surprise. And then there was the matter of Kate being the cause of the Hale fire. Of course, his father knew that Chris had nothing to do with it but ever since both discoveries were made, the hunter families kept their distance.

Stiles knew that it pained his father not to be able to talk to Chris as much as he used to because they were the only other hunter family in Beacon Hills and his father had been quite close with him.

But he didn’t dare bring that up. He still hung out with Allison, of course. But that was because of Scott and also because, well Allison was a pretty cool person by herself. She understood that not everything was black and white and so he liked her as a friend.

That's when the doorbell rang and Stiles's stomach lurched. He was not ready for this. 

"I'll go get the door," His father said and got up from the table. 

* * *

Stiles shook himself out of the memory. Things had definitely changed since that day. And not for the better. 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter two

_Three years later_

Stiles wakes up when he hears the ping from his phone. He rubs his eyes, yawns and then grabs his phone.

It says: _Come to the woods. There’s a dead body here_. ;)

He smirks. Then, he gets out of his bed, cracking all of his joints as he stretches and changes out of his pajamas.

He strolls quietly down the stairs, careful not to wake his father up as he sneaks out of the house.

Which is funny since Stiles is twenty-one and he hasn’t been living with his father for a few years now so he knows it’s silly for him to be scared of his father. But still, even if he’s only visiting doesn’t change the fact that his dad is the town’s sheriff and no matter his age, Stiles will always be terrified of his father.

He meets Scott right in front of the spot where they found Laura’s body. Right where they met Derek. Right where Stiles had taken one look at him and _knew._ Knew that Derek would be both the beginning and end of him.

Stiles shakes the thoughts away.  Even after three years, his stomach clenches at the thought of _him_.

They fist bump and hug after saying hello.

Later, when they’re sitting on the blankets, eating chips and drinking beers, Scott murmurs, “Can you believe it, Stiles? Five years since you dragged me out to the woods and our lives were changed forever.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. Scott, the ever dramatic one. “Well not really, I knew about the supernatural before we found Laura.”

“Well, I didn’t.”

“That’s not my problem,” Stiles laughed and Scott shoved him.

They sat for a few minutes of silence before Scott added on, “You might have known about the supernatural but you didn’t even know you were a banshee!

Stiles sighed. “That’s true, I guess.”

They sat there for another hour chatting mindlessly (about their respective colleges, their new friends, their professors and how happy they were to be on break) before saying goodbye and heading back to their homes.

* * *

As Stiles walked home, he could’ve sworn someone was following him. He could hear an additional set of footsteps every time he crossed a street. He shook it off as paranoia and having one too many beers.

Even being a bit drunk, he managed to open the door to his house and stumble upstairs to his room. When he laid on his bed, he heard some noise outside his window. He tilted his head towards the noise and grabbed his bat from under his bed just in case.

Just as he was going to swing his bat, a person from the other side of his window, got inside Stiles’s bedroom, promptly landed on his feet and said, “I can explain.”


	3. Chapter 3

For the first time in three years, Derek Hale stood so close to Stiles that Stiles could hear him breathing, could see every frown line that he had acquired over the years and could count the freckles all over Derek’s face. It had been _so_ , _so_ long since he’d seen the guy. So of course, Stiles was stumped. His mouth was hanging open and he didn’t know what to say.

That, however only lasted two minutes because then Stiles remembered how everything had gone down three years ago and he was absolutely furious. He pointed the bat in Derek’s direction. “You have a lot of nerve coming here.”

Derek stood stoically, not showing any emotion whatsoever but Stiles knew him too well and so he glanced at Derek’s fingers, which were twitching ever so lightly. _Good_. Derek wasn’t feeling too great about this encounter either.

“You know you have a lot to explain. Like first of all where the hell you’ve been and also why the fuck are you in my house at-” Stiles glanced at the clock. “-two in the morning?!”

“Stiles,” Derek said gently, trying to interject but Stiles did not hear him.

“And what was so urgent that you had to climb through my window in the middle of the night?” Stiles exclaimed. “You almost gave me a heart attack!”

“I can explain,” Derek said softly.

Stiles jabbed the bat in Derek’s direction. Then, he crossed his arms. “Fine, explain. I _really_ want to hear this.”

“I will, could you just um.. put the bat down?”  Derek asked cautiously, afraid of what answer Stiles might give.

Stiles hadn’t even realized he was still holding the bat. “Fine, I will put it back. But it might come back out if someone else jumps through my window tonight.” As he went to put his bat away, he thought he saw a hint of a smile from Derek.

After he placed his bat under the bed and then sat down on his bed, he glanced at Derek, who had idly been sitting at his desk chair, staring at the calendar that hung above it and said, “Okay, wolf man, explain.”

Derek wasted no time with beating around the bush and blurted everything out right away. “The alpha pack is back and Deucalion wants you in his pack. He wants a banshee and an emissary and since you’re both, it’s the perfect package for him.”

Stiles blinked nonstop for a few seconds. Then he stopped and laughed. “Is that why you’re here?”

Derek looked confused.

Stiles smirked. “I already knew that, Derek.”

“ _What?_ ” Derek raised his eyebrows. “You did?”

Stiles snorted at the exasperated expression on Derek’s face. “Why do you think I came back home earlier before my break?”

“I didn’t even know you were on break,” Derek pointed out.

Stiles resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Typical Derek. “I’m meeting with Deucalion and his pack in a few days. Scott is coming with me too. You can come with us if you like.”

Derek mulled it over for a few seconds before saying, “Yes, I think it’s pertinent that I be there.”

They sat there for a few minutes of silence. Then Derek suddenly spoke up. “So, how have you been, Stiles?”

_Oh, I don’t know. How do you think? I’ve still been in love with the same guy for the past four years even though he ran away three years ago from everything and now he’s suddenly jumped through my window and is sitting merely inches away from my face. And it’s taking all of my will not to jump him in his arms and kiss him._

Stiles doesn’t say any of it. Of course, he doesn’t. Instead he says, “It’s been good, just finished my junior year. No sightings of supernatural, which I can’t complain about, well except for the alpha pack but you know that’s being taken care of so yeah." He shrugged, not sure what else to add on it. 

Derek smiled brightly at him, his smile actually reaching his eyes, which was a rare occurrence. “That’s great, Stiles. Do you still want to practice law?”

“Yep,” Stiles said. “I’m taking the LSAT in the fall and then we’ll see what’ll happen.”

“You tell your dad?”

“Yes, he wasn’t so thrilled, wanted me to be in the force just like him but I told him that I’m interested in the other side of the criminal justice system and eventually got around the idea."

Derek nodded. Then he sighed and he turned somber. “Listen Stiles, I owe you an explanation, about why I left." 

“Don’t worry about it,” Stiles smiled slightly at Derek to show everything was okay but it felt like a grimace instead. 

“I just-” Derek swallowed and then added on, “- I just wanted to explain about that night and about-”

Stiles’s face turned dark and he shook his head. He put a hand up to stop Derek from continuing. “No, Derek. I don’t want to hear it. We can go to the meeting with Deucalion and maybe after that we can talk. But not right now. Okay, please don’t start this right now.”

Derek backed off right away and nodded. Then he stood from the desk chair and said, “I guess I’ll see you in a few days at that meeting.”

“Yeah, see you,” Stiles responded and then Derek left through his window.

Stiles flopped on his bed and looked at the ceiling, trying to rationalize his thoughts and calm himself down before rolling over. 

That night he twisted and turned for several hours before finally falling asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

_A few days later_

It would be an understatement to say that the meeting with Deucalion failed. Because it didn’t just fail, it failed _miserably_.

As promised, Derek had tagged along with Stiles and Scott to the meeting, which did not help Stiles’s nerves at all. But he supposed it was always great to have an additional werewolf by your side when meeting the most vicious alpha of a pack.

When they entered, they were greeted by Kali, who as usual wasn’t wearing any shoes and her claws were out. _Lydia had been right, she really did need a pedicure._ Stiles noted.

Kali smiled slyly at them before leading them through the hallway, then up the stairs and through another hallway. Stiles thought that if Deucalion was going for extreme creepiness and weirdness with this meeting place, then he had definitely succeeded. This place was definitely giving him the creeps. He glanced at Scott and Derek who were besides him and noted that they too seemed a bit creeped out, albeit probably not as creeped out as he was.

So eventually they had gone to the room with Deucalion and started negotiating. Deucalion wanted Stiles in his pack, said he was the perfect package supernaturally. Stiles said thank you very much to that but then asked that Scott and Derek be allowed to join the pack as well. As expected, Deucalion said no and did not want to budge. Stiles did not want to budge either and so they were left at a stalemate. And that was the end of that.

Until Kali came to the room to take them out and Deucalion spoke up. “Mr. Stilinski, you have disappointed me and I am not very happy about that but it would not be right of me if I did not tell you that there is a smell of sickness on you.”

Stiles nodded at him, unsure of what he could say. Meanwhile he was thinking _, Sickness?! What sickness?! What could it be this time?_

* * *

As they drove away, Scott said, “That was good, man. Good but risky. I can’t believe he let us go. I thought he was going to eat us.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and he swore he heard a faint snicker from Derek in the backseat.

Stiles shook his head, “Scotty, Scotty, Scotty.”

“Are you just going to say my name over and over again?”

Stiles stuck his tongue out at him to which Scott laughed at and then Stiles joined in the laughter.

When their laughter withered, Stiles spoke up again. “Look, I’m not stupid, I didn’t want to join and I knew he wouldn’t want to take both of you in considering the beef he has with you guys.”

Neither werewolf said anything while they listened to him explain so Stiles continued on. “And I knew that neither Deucalion nor any members of his pack could really hurt us because dad and the Argents have an agreement with the alpha pack. You know, one that would end in a bloodbath if Deucalion even had a thought of hurting us, especially on our territory.”

As there were still no comments from either Derek or Scott, Stiles added on, “And did you guys think I would leave Allison, Lydia or Jackson? Sure, sometimes they can be pains but they’re pack and I definitely was not going to leave them.”

Scott took one hand off the wheel and punched him lightly in the shoulder. “Stiles, you’re the best.”

“Eyes on the road,” Stiles said but then smiled at Scott and added on, “Thanks, Scotty.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Stiles spoke up again. “And what was that he mentioned about the sickness? Honestly, I think he and his pack should considering once in a while visiting a hospital, I know they’re werewolves but Jesus, did you see Kali's nails- it’d be good for them to learn some general hygienic skills.”

Stiles heard Derek clear his throat, cough and then clear his throat again. Stiles turned back in his seat. “What, what is it? Do you know something?”

Derek shifted awkwardly in his seat. “The night I came back, I uh-”

“What?” Stiles bellowed. “Just tell me, Derek. I _can_ handle it.”

“When I was in your house, I thought I caught the scent of cancer and I thought I was mistaken so I didn’t say anything but Deucalion could smell it too so-” Derek shrugged, unsure of what else there was to say. 

Stiles snorted. “C'mon, Derek, I am not sick. I just had a physical a few weeks ago."

Derek remained stoic. “I didn’t smell it from you that night and neither did Deucalion. He probably smelled it as a remnant from someone else.” Derek sighed, “Someone else who lives in that house.”

_Oh god, oh god. There was only one other person living in that house. The sheriff._

Stiles thought he was going to throw up. 


	5. Chapter 5

Stiles sat in silence for a few minutes as he mulled over what he just heard and realized.

The silence was broken up by Scott, who turned to him and softly asked, “Are you okay? Do you want to stop or something?”

“Get me to my house right now,” Stiles demanded.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Scott asked again, concern laced in his voice.

“Don’t ask me any questions, just drive to my house!” Stiles shouted. Then as the anger seeped out of him, he gently said, _“Please_ , Scott.”

When they arrived in front of his house, without a second thought, Stiles unbuckled his seatbelt, jumped from the car and ran to the front door, not even bothering to say goodbye to Scott or Derek. He barely paid attention to his keys and the doorknob. Some way or another, he managed to open the door to his house and get inside.

He ran into the kitchen where he saw his father standing at the stovetop making burgers. “Hey kiddo, how was the meeting with Deucalion?”

“ _What_?” Stiles said hoarsely. Everything was starting to look a bit blurry.

“The meeting with Deucalion,” The sheriff quirked an eyebrow, “How was it?”

“Huh?” His head was spinning. He thought his heart was going to jump out of his chest any second now. And he could no longer breathe properly. When did it get so hot in the room?

All of a sudden, the sheriff brought a chair up to Stiles and pointed at it. “Stiles, honey, can you sit down here for me?”

Stiles nodded hazily at his dad and sat down. “Thank you, kiddo.” The sheriff quickly procured a brown bag and said, “Now breathe into this bag, big deep breaths. In and out, in and out, there you go.”

Half an hour later, Stiles was feeling much better. He had calmed down and was breathing with ease.

His dad then went to make him some tea and as he did so, Stiles causally uttered, “You called me honey.”

His dad turned away from the tea kettle. He held a grave expression, a look Stiles had seen whenever he was in trouble. “Stiles, don’t ever forget that you’re my kid and that I’ll always panic and try to ease your suffering when you’re in pain.”

Stiles swallowed past the lump in his throat. His dad was surely making what he had to tell him harder than it already was. He gingerly drank his tea and observed his dad, who sat across from him and ate his burger.

Stiles didn’t bother to berate him for eating such greasy food. 

* * *

After dinner, as usual, they sat in the living room, his father reading the newspaper and him mindlessly surfing through TV channels, not really paying attention.

He decided now would be the time to tell his dad. He would just be blunt and blurt everything out at once. His dad deserved the right to know before he found out from one of his visits to a doctor.

Stiles muted the television and cleared his throat, “Dad, uh-”

The sheriff turned away from the newspaper and quirked an eyebrow questioningly at him. “Yes?”

“You have cancer,” Stiles blurted out. Then he grabbed his head in his hands, “Crap, I’m sorry, dad.”

“Who told you?”

Stiles looked up from his hands. “You know?” He exclaimed, “Dad, you knew and you didn’t tell me?”

Stiles shot up from the couch faster than a lightning bolt and started pacing back and forth.

“Stiles, please sit down,” His dad said from the couch and added on, "You don't need to have another panic attack right now.”

Stiles ignored his father and kept pacing.

“I was going to tell you,” The sheriff said defensively from his seat on the couch.

“When? When I was burying you six feet under? Is that when you planned to tell me?” Stiles barked, his nostrils flaring. He wiped at the tears that threatened to fall.

The sheriff put the newspaper aside and got up from the couch. He came up to Stiles and pulled him into a hug, “I’m sorry, Stiles.”

Stiles hugged his father back and let the tears fall.

* * *

Later, when the tears had subsided, he asked his father when he would start treatment and his dad said, “I can’t, they caught it too late.”

And so, Stiles asked how long his father had left and the sheriff solemnly said, “Six months to a year.”

“ _Jesus_.”

They sat for several moments in silence when an idea came to Stiles. He brightened up as he thought it over and then said, “Derek can give you the bite.”

His dead shook his head, “No, Stiles, he will not.”

“I’ll ask him, he owes me for all the crap he’s put me through,” Stiles said petulantly.

“It’s not about that, Stiles.”

“Then what?” Stiles asked irritably.  “So you’ll turn into a wolf once in a while. What’s so bad about that? At least you’ll be alive, which is a lot better than being dead, in my book.”

“Stiles, I was trained as a hunter. I will not become a monster like the ones that I was trained to hunt and kill since I was a kid.”

“Monsters like me,” Stiles mumbled, averting his gaze.

“Stiles, you are not a monster.”

Stiles glanced up at his father and grumbled, “I’m a banshee, dad. Pretty sure that qualifies me as a monster.”

“Listen kid, a monster is someone who’s done terrible things and you, you have done nothing wrong.” The sheriff frowned, “And listen, I know that not all werewolves are monsters but I will not risk it. I’m sorry but there is nothing you can say to convince me. I will not take the bite.”

Stiles said nothing in reply to that.

Noticing that Stile was still not saying anything, his dad continued on. “I’m sorry, son but please respect my wishes.” Then without a glance back, he went upstairs to his bedroom.

* * *

That night as Stiles lay in his bed, contemplating and thinking over everything that had happened during the day, he heard his window being open. He didn’t even bother getting his bat out from his bed. He had an inkling at who was at the window. He turned his head a bit and saw Derek standing there at the edge of his bed, nervously twiddling with his hands.

“I thought- I uh thought you could use some comfort after- ” Derek said sheepishly. “- After the day you had.”

Stiles didn’t have the energy to be angry with him. He didn’t bother to point out to Derek that he was being presumptuous. He didn’t tell Derek to fuck off or to go mind his own business. Instead, he uncovered the blanket and without a word, Derek got in.

Stiles turned his body fully so that he was now face to face with Derek.

“Just like old times, huh,” He remarked.

“I’m so sorry, Stiles,” Derek said earnestly, not bothering to reply to Stiles's remark.

“Thank you,” Stiles sighed heavily. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.  I’ll have to defer senior year for the time before he- he-” He couldn’t finish the rest of the sentence as tears started falling again.

Those damn tears again. _God, Stiles was turning into a crybaby_.

Derek pulled Stiles close to him, putting both of his arms around him. As Stiles sobbed, Derek rubbed his back soothingly and muttered, “Shh, shh. It’s going to be alright.”

“It’s not but thanks for saying that,” Stiles muttered when he was finished crying for the millionth time that night. As he finished wiping his tears. “God, I don’t know what I’ll do, I’m going to have to take care of him before it gets too bad and then when it does, I'll need to get him a 24/7 nurse because god knows he's going to refuse the hospital.” Stiles rubbed his eyes, “ _Fuck_ , Derek, _Fuck_.”

“I can help you take care of him.” 

“Derek, don’t be ridiculous, you don’t have to do that.”

“But I want to and I owe you-” Derek gave him a pointed look, “For all the shit that’s gone down between us. I mean, I am responsible for most of it.”

Stiles gave him a sour smile. “Don't be absurd, you're not at fault for _everything_." Derek smiled softly at him.

Stiles yawned. “Okay, you can stay to help me and my dad out." Then he snuggled closer to Derek. "Thank you.” 

He didn’t know if it was his imagination or not but as he fell asleep, he thought he heard Derek murmur quietly, “I really missed you.”


	6. Chapter 6

In the morning when Stiles woke up, Derek was no longer there. In fact, it looked like there was no trace of him. For a few seconds, Stiles thought he must have dreamed all of that. Until he noticed Derek’s jacket laying on his desk chair and a sticky note on his desk.

Stiles got up from his bed and wandered over to the table to take a look at the note. He wondered what Derek had to say this time.

The note said, _Be right back. I went to get breakfast_. Stiles breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

When Derek came back with sandwiches from the nearby bagel shop, Derek didn’t mention the night before and neither did Stiles. They don’t need to talk about it. It was _just_ a one-time thing. Stiles needed comfort after the horrid day he had had and so he let Derek in. That’s all that was. He still wasn’t too keen on forgiving Derek for leaving, _even_ after last night. 

After breakfast, they discussed the best plan for making the sheriff comfortable and when the sheriff would prefer Stiles hire a nurse.

* * *

Little by little, they settled into a routine. Over the next eight months, Derek came over every day in the early morning and helped Stiles take care of his dad. He helped with any chores Stiles needed help with around the house. He ate lunch with Stiles and the sheriff. He laughed at the sheriff’s jokes even when the sheriff’s memory withered away and he would repeat the same joke over and over again. And when the sheriff got worse, Derek helped him pick out the best and the most qualified nurse in Beacon Hills to help take care of the sheriff.

He and Derek talked about everything and anything that sometimes Stiles almost forgot that he hadn’t seen the guy for three years. It felt like nothing had ever changed. That wasn’t true of course, a lot had changed. But sometimes Stiles allowed himself to act like the past three years hadn’t gone by and he felt a lot better and yes, he did feel awful about that but sue him, he was only human.

* * *

One day, early in the morning, right before the sunrise, the sheriff passed away in his sleep. Before letting go, he thought, _it was a good life_.  

At that moment, Stiles woke up in his bedroom and began screaming. He screamed and screamed and screamed and he immediately _knew_. He knew without a doubt what had happened.

The nurse ran into his room instantaneously to ask what was wrong and he told her that they needed to go check up on his father. He said he just had a hunch.

When they got to his father’s room, he didn’t want to enter it. _God, he didn’t want to_. But he knew he had to.

After getting into the bedroom and seeing his father lying dead on the bed, Stiles didn’t do anything. He didn’t say anything, he just stood there frozen. Then he started to scream again. He was sobbing and screaming when he felt two strong arms around. He turned around him and saw Derek behind him. _When had Derek gotten there?_

He tried to fight his way out of Derek’s arms and start pushing Derek away but Derek’s hold was too strong and he managed to restrain Stiles.

Later that day, when Stiles managed to calm down a bit, he muttered, “We need to plan the funeral” and went into planning mode, ignoring everything else he was feeling.

* * *

Three days later, Stiles was in a black suit standing in a church, in front of all the people who had cherished and loved the sheriff.

“Thank you all for coming,” Stiles began his eulogy. “We are gathered here- we are- we-” Stiles’s lip trembled and his voice shook. He looked up at the people who were waiting to hear his eulogy and saw Derek who was sitting next to Melissa, Chris, and all their friends in the second row behind his dad’s colleagues and the other police officers in the first row. Derek nodded at him. 

He wasn’t okay, far from it. But knowing that his friends and Derek were here to support him and show respect for his father, Stiles thought he could do this. He could get through the rest of his speech. He swallowed past the lump in his throat and reiterated, “We are gathered here, to remember the life of my dad, Sheriff Stilinski. Some of you may have known him as a colleague, who was brave and fierce and who risked his life every day to better the safety of others while others might have known him as a friend, who was always there for you whenever you needed help or someone to talk to. But I knew him as _dad_ and to me, he was all of those things. As a dad, he was a protector, he was a friend, and he was always there for me whenever I needed him.” Stiles wiped his tears before he finished off the rest of his speech.

“And we will always miss him,” Stiles said. “May he rest in peace.”

* * *

Later, after the funeral, when Stiles went home to get some rest before deciding on what he would do with the house, Derek tagged along. 

After they had gone inside, Stiles flopped onto the couch and groaned. Then he turned over and stared vacantly at the ceiling. He turned his head and saw that Derek who was sitting on the chair stared at him worriedly, a frown etched upon his face.  

“Derek, I’m not going to do anything drastic,” Stiles said. “You can leave if you want.”  

Derek gave him a baffled look. “Why would I do that?”

“Well you left last time when things got tough.” And okay, that may have been cruel but Stiles was hurting and he didn’t care about tact.

“You’re right I did leave,” Derek heaved a sighed. “And I was wrong. _Shit_ , Stiles, I was so fucking wrong to leave.”

Stiles sat up. It was probably not the best time to discuss this but curiosity had gotten to him. “Why you’d leave then?”

Derek bit his bottom lip. “I didn’t think I was good enough for you. Everyone around me dies or gets hurt. And after Cora’s-” Derek sighed again, “After her death, I just needed to get away from this town, from everything. I didn’t want to leave you but I didn’t want to be a nuisance for you and I definitely didn't want you to see me grieve.”

“Well, now you get to see me grieve,” Stiles remarked darkly. “So, I totally understand if you want to leave and never come back.”

“Stiles, -” Derek pulled at his hair. “- You are a fucking idiot. Do you think I stayed and helped you out for the past eight months out of some obligation?”

Stiles gave him a look that said _duh_.

Derek pulled at his hair again. Then he snorted. “ _Fuck,_ Stiles, I love _you_.”

“ _What_?”

“I love you.”

“Say that again.”

“I love you.”

Stiles got up from his spot on the couch and sat next to Derek. Derek turned to him questioningly, an eyebrow raised. “Do you want me to repeat it again?”

“No,” Stiles said. Then he grabbed Derek’s face in his hands and kissed him. At first Derek just blinked at him but then he kissed him back.

When they finished kissing, Stiles rested his forehead against Derek’s.

“Man, I missed that,” Stiles mumbled.

Derek laughed at that.

They sat for a few seconds in silence before Stiles spoke up again. “I’m not okay, Derek. Not after everything that’s happened. And I probably won’t be, for a long time.”

Derek smiled softly at him. “That’s okay, I can wait.”


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

_Six years later_

“We are going to be late,” Stiles said as he ran across their apartment, gathering the camera, and stuffing the baby bag with onesies, a teddy bear, and other essentials they might need.

“Calm down,” Derek said softly as he kept his gaze on his husband, who was pacing erratically across the living room. “Everything will be fine.”

“Calm down? Calm down, he says,” Stiles mocked. “We are going to meet our daughter for the first time! How can you be calm?”

Derek shot him an amused look. “I’m not calm, I’m excited and nervous but babe, you need to relax. We don’t even know how long the surrogate will be in labor before we get to meet her.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Stiles said and crossed his arms. “I will not be calm till we meet her.”

Derek threw his hands in the air, as if to say ‘this is what I deal with every day.’ But then he started pacing back and forth himself and voicing reminders to Stiles on what they need not forget to bring to the hospital.

This worry thing was _definitely_ contagious.

* * *

Ten hours later, after Stiles and Derek had welcomed their daughter into the world, Melissa, Chris, and their friends had visited the hospital to see the new addition to the Stilinski-Hale family.

When they were in the hospital room, Allison was standing next to Scott and as Derek talked to the others about how the birth had gone, something on Allison’s hand caught Stiles's attention.

She was wearing an engagement ring and when she caught his gaze, she smiled brightly at him.  “We were going to tell you guys but wanted to wait after your daughter was born.”

Lydia, who had been engrossed in the conversation turned to Allison and said, “You guys can borrow our wedding binder, if you want.” Jackson rolled his eyes at that but his eyes did not hold any malice, rather they were sparkling with joy. 

* * *

Later in the evening, after everyone had congratulated Scott and Allison, they took turns holding the baby when Scott said, “She’s so small.”

“I know, right,” Stiles said as he looked down fondly at his daughter but at the same time, there was fear evident in his eyes. He was now in charge of this tiny human being. He would have to do everything he could to keep her safe. And so of course he was scared shitless but he was also so ecstatic and happy. Derek, who was standing next to him rubbed his arm soothingly.

Stiles glanced at him and was relieved to see the same worry and fear in Derek’s eyes. He knew that this parenting thing wouldn’t be easy but as long as he had Derek on his side, they would figure it out together.

“That’s how they are at that age,” Melissa said. “Though Scott was bigger. He had already been born with chubby cheeks.” She smiled softly at Scott, who smiled sheepishly at his mom.

At that, Allison pinched Scott’s cheek, “Aww, you were a chubby baby.”

That was when Chris chose to say, “I remember when Allison was that age. She too, was a chubby baby.”

“ _Dad_ ,” Allison flushed crimson and Scott pinched Allison’s cheek back. “Aww.”

“Shut up,” Allison muttered.

“What’s her name, guys?” Jackson interjected, clearly trying to change the subject.

“Cassie Jo,” Stiles answered as he passed the baby carefully to Lydia. “Cassie in honor of Cora and Jo in honor of dad.”

Melissa smiled at that. “They would have loved that.”

As they all stood in the hospital room, fussing over Cassie Jo, Stiles glanced at Derek, and smiled radiantly when he saw that Derek was telling Jackson to be careful.  

He thought about the past six years and how quickly they had gone by. They definitely hadn’t been easy. His father’s death had taken a toll on him and Derek had still been recovering from the loss of his sister. So of course, life hadn’t been easy. They had fought and they bickered and they didn’t always want to relent or forgive each other.

But little by little, they rebuild what had been broken. They had improved their communication. They listened to each other. They stopped running away from each other and instead they had stayed.

And though a lot of things had changed over the years, and they had lost some people along the way, they could finally say that they were truly happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,  
> Okay so to clear some things up. In this AU, Lydia never brought Peter back. Jackson and Cora never left. Allison lived and Cora died instead. I’m aware that the Oni killed Allison but for the purposes of my story, I changed it to the Nogitsune stabbing Cora. Furthermore, the Sheriff and Stiles knew about the supernatural before the show started as they were a hunter family, like the Argents.  
> Please review and let me know what you think.  
> Thank you,


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